Campaign for Ashenvale
by Kraken's Daughter
Summary: A blood elf adventurer joins the company of a young orc captain with an illustrious reputation. The mission: establish a new outpost in Ashenvale. BE female/Orc male
1. Adventurers

"Damned adventurers," Thror scoffed. As a captain for the Horde, he had dealt with many of them over the years and he had developed a distaste for their kind - always clamoring for "quests" and expecting praise and lavish rewards for the simplest of tasks. Still, he supposed they had their uses. He narrowed his red eyes at the blood elf paladin swaggering into his camp. A trail of blood dripped from the base of the satyr's head which she carried by the hair.

"Good day, Captain Blackscar!" she called to him. Her plate helmet was fashioned like a snarling demon's head, but she pulled it off to reveal the symmetrical, angular features and fair skin that were common in her kind. Her hair, pulled in a tight ponytail, shone like black glass in the sunlight. "I was told to come see you about a mission."

"Aye, and who sent you, blood elf?"

"Ogrimmar sends me," she answered, handing him a letter written in Garrosh Hellscream's own illegible scratchings. "They've received reports of escalating violence in the area and thought you might need some help with setting up the new outpost in Ashenvale."

"I see." He scanned the letter quickly, and then paused to size her up. She seemed a bit too slim and delicate to be of much use, through her heavy armor and weaponry spoke of experience in battle. Her green eyes shone with an unsettling light. "And what exactly is that," he asked, pointing at the head.

"Oh, I had business in Felwood on my way here. I heard Verius here had been attacking Horde camps, so I tracked him down and killed him. I thought I'd bring his head to you as a present, Captain." She smirked and threw the head at his feet. Its tongue lolled out grotesquely and its eyes stared at him unseeing.

He chuckled at her arrogance and threw a small purse of coins at her. "Well done, paladin. A true champion of the Horde, if I ever met one. Lenara Nightstrider, is it?"

She nodded.

"I did ask for more reinforcements, but I did not expect Ogrimmar to send me a single adventurer. Still, I suppose the Horde offensive is stretched thin enough. I'll make do with you. Help pack up supplies. We ride for Ashenvale at first light." With that, he turned and strode away. He still had much to do.

Lenara watched the young Horde captain walk away for a moment longer before turning to obey his orders. She barely suppressed a giggle of excitement. Though he hadn't shown it, it seemed the head had done its job and impressed Thror enough to allow her to join his company. The enigmatic orc warrior's reputation as a military leader was quickly gaining momentum and stories of his improbable victories were on everybody's lips. He was notoriously dismissive of adventurers and often turned down their requests to join his campaigns, even when they carried orders from the Warchief himself.

Elated, Lenara worked until well after the hot Durotar sun had dipped below the horizon. That night, she shared a drink and stories of war with some of the orc soldiers gathered around the camp fire before retiring to her tent. The captain did not reappear. Whatever task had drawn him to his tent still kept him there and the light from his lamp shone into the early hours of the morning.


	2. March to Ashenvale

Lenara woke up before sunrise to the proud call of a warhorn. The soldiers ate a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, packed up their tents, strapped on their armor and gathered around Thror Blackscar to hear his orders.

Their camp was located at the northern border of Durotar. Thror planned on making west and crossing the Southfury River on foot at its shallowest point to enter into the Northern Barrens. From there, he would turn north-west into Ashenvale. The outpost would be located by the road to Felwood, giving the Horde more control over traffic between the two regions. He hoped to avoid attack on their way there by passing through the Barrens, as he anticipated they would need to clear the area of night elves before setting up the outpost.

Thror's gaze found the adventurer easily among the orc soldiers. Her armor shone dully in the thin morning light. She had put her demon's head helmet back on, and, too late to avoid her noticing, he realized that she was looking back at him. She nodded at him and he turned away with a grunt. She was going to be trouble, he could tell.

He mounted his armored worg, spun the beast around and shouted "For the Horde!" His company answered in unison and they rode off into the Durotar desert.

Lenara rode at the back of the company. She had chosen to ride a worg as well, because the wolves, even tamed, tended to make other mounts nervous in such large groups. The worg, with its nimble legs and large paws, was also better than her charger at negotiating the rocky terrain of Durotar.

Whenever the road turned, Lenara caught a glimpse of Thror Blackscar at the head of the company. He was large, even for an orc. His coarse dark hair fell across his broad back and two thick braids fell forward over his shoulders. Next to the large Horde standard, he looked like a true warlord. She felt a thrill run down her spine at the thought of fighting side by side with him and hearing about his recent victory in the Stonetalon Mountains from his own lips.

Lenara was not terribly interested in personal glory. She rarely stayed anywhere long enough to make much of a name for herself. She had an inquisitive and restless nature that had compelled her to leave her home in Eversong Woods at an early age and travel the lands of Azeroth in search of the secrets, stories and lore of the world. She always imagined herself settling down in her twilight years and archiving the stories she had collected through her travels in a book or two. She often took notes of the most interesting stories she came across and even wrote some of them out, but she had yet to assemble them in any kind of coherent narrative. She wanted Thror Blackscar's stories for her collection, and she was prepared to go to great lengths to get them.

By late afternoon, the company had reached the crossing point of the Southfury River. The river was swollen from the melting snows of Winterspring at this time of year and even at the shallowest point, the soldiers were wading in water that reached to their waists and higher. The current was strong too, making the crossing all the more treacherous. Thror instructed the Flight Master they had brought to set up a new flight point to guide their wyverns to the other side by air. The worgs were good swimmers and could brave the current. The orcs, burdened by their packs and armor, were more in danger of slipping and being borne away by the river.

Nevertheless, they made their slow way to the other side, slipping and stumbling often. Thror was first to reach the shore, where he set down his packs and armor next to the Flight Master. Lenara watched him make many trips back into the rushing water to assist his less surefooted soldiers to shore. Suddenly and with a splash, a female orc disappeared under the current a few meters from Lenara, the water cutting off her startled cry. She had slipped on one of the slimy rocks lining the riverbed and the current was rapidly pulling her towards more dangerous waters.

Lenara dove after her, allowing the current to propel her forward. She tried to keep her head above the water as she swam towards the fallen soldier. As she reached her, her fingers grasped for a hold on the orc. Finally, she managed to hook her hand into the other woman's belt and pull her above the water. Holding on to each other, the two swam to shore, a few hundred meters from where the company was gathered. With the last of their strength, they heaved themselves out of the water and collapsed, breathing heavily and looking up into the cloudless sky.

"Thank you, blood elf. I owe you my life," said the orc woman between coughing fits. It seemed she had swallowed quite a bit of water. Lenara tried to answer with a courtesy, but was overcome by her own coughing fit. Suddenly, she was aware of heavy footfalls coming towards them. Then, Thror Blackscar obscured the sky as he leaned over her. His red eyes darted between her and the orc soldier as he helped Lenara sit up to better cough out the water. She was vaguely aware of his large hand tapping her on the back to help her get the water out. Two more soldiers appeared and lifted her to her feet, leading her back to the rest of the company.

She found herself sitting next to the orc woman she had rescued again, being looked over by a couple of healers. "Thanks again," said the soldier, extending her hand. "I'm Zagra, by the way."

"Lenara. And don't mention it." She grasped Zagra's hand and managed a smile. They were both handed a draught of spirit, as was the orc custom in such situations. Lenara sipped the strong amber liquid carefully – she did not want to embarrass herself by getting in another coughing fit. She looked up and her eyes locked with Thror's. He was looking at her with a renewed curiosity and perhaps even a little bit of respect.

After a short rest, the company set out again. Night would be upon them soon and Thror wanted to find a good place to make camp before the sun went down. Zagra rode by Lenara's side and the two chatted about this and that, but they separated when the company stopped so they could each attend to their tasks.

Soon, the tents were set up, the mounts were fed and watered and the company had gathered around a large campfire, singing songs of past glory and shouting over one another to have their jokes heard. No one set up as lively a camp as orcs, in Lenara's experience, and she sat in silence for a while, listening to the songs and stories being told all around her in Orcish. Steeling herself, she finally got up and walked over to where Thror sat alone, away from the merriment, his back to the fire, polishing his blade.

"So this is the famed blade Felfang, with which you slew the human general Striker?" Thror stood up at the sound of her voice and turned around to look down at her. He did not like that she had managed to sneak up on him like that, but he decided not to mention it. Blood elves were unnaturally light-footed.

"Aye." He waited for her to say more, but she was eyeing his sword. It was nearly as long as she was tall, a massive sword that most could not wield, but he knew how to make it sing. Tentatively, she reached out her hand and stroked the steel, feeling its edge.

"Careful, blood elf. It has a sharp bite and it's not as discriminating as I am in applying it," he said. His voice had gone soft and deep. The way she was stroking his sword was rather... suggestive. Through perhaps she was not aware of the kinds of images she was conjuring up in his mind by running her delicate little fingers along the edge of his blade. Perhaps it had been too long since he'd had a woman, if a little blood elf adventurer like her could make his cock harden just by touching his sword. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly thankful for the concealing darkness.

She took her hand away from the blade and looked up at him. He glowered at her for a moment. "That was well done today, paladin. Don't see many adventurers risking their necks like that to save a soldier. Get some rest tonight." With that, he stalked off stiffly in the direction of his tent. Lenara stared after him for a moment, and then made her way back to the fire, disappointed that he had rebuffed her attempt to approach him, but heartened by his approval.

They set off early the next day. As they were far north in the Northern Barrens, they expected to reach the pass into Ashenvale before nightfall. The sky was heavy with purple clouds and it threatened to storm. Nothing troubled them on their journey through the Barrens, as Thror had expected. The danger awaited them in Ashenvale.

They crossed the pass through the mountains into Ashenvale that afternoon. Though there were still several hours of daylight left, it was as dark as twilight under the forest roof. The forest felt oppressive and unfriendly even to the shamans in the company, and they rode in silence, trying not to stray from the path. The wyverns pulled nervously at their leashes, stretching their wings as if they wished to fly away from the groping forest.

Lenara pressed her worg forward and rode up to Thror. "Captain," she called to him.

"What is it?" He spared her a look then turned his gaze back to the forest.

"There is an evil feeling to this forest, as though the very trees are angry at our presence. Can you feel it? It feels like we are being watched."

"And what if we are? Does that frighten you, adventurer," he answered in a mocking tone. "Perhaps you should turn back. My company and I ride forward."

He could tell that his words had offended her. All the better if it got her to leave him to his black thoughts, instead of voicing the same apprehension he had been trying to suppress. She tipped her chin up and glared at him. Until that moment, he hadn't known that someone of such a smaller stature could look down their nose at him. He smirked down at her.

"What exactly is your problem with adventurers," she asked indignantly.

"My problem is that your lot is undisciplined, insubordinate and driven by self-interest. Half the time, you amateurs do more harm than good."

He saw the colour rise in her pale cheeks and her eyes narrow. "Oh, come on! True, we work for ourselves, but we're loyal to the Horde! And if it weren't for us, who would help the common folk with the countless little challenges they face? Are you going to send your soldiers out to collect seeds or precious plants for every village healer? Are you going to hunt down every overgrown vermin terrorising the locals?"

"Ha! It's true, there are tasks better left to you lot," Thror laughed darkly. "But war isn't one of them. You have no sense of loyalty to your comrades. Half the time I give an adventurer an order to rescue my fallen soldiers from the field, he asks how many! A true soldier wouldn't ask that. A true soldier goes back for as many as he can rescue, for as long as it takes."

She had just opened her mouth to answer, when an arrow flew by her face and ricocheted off Thror's plate spaulder. Before they could turn to look for the arrow's source, a warhorn sounded and a dozen night elf hunters descended on them from the forest, along with the large sabers they kept as companions.

Thror blew his own warhorn and yelled: "Horde, to me! To me! Charge them!" He had already dismissed his worg mount and, drawing Felfang from its scabbard, he fell upon the night elves. Lenara followed his lead, charging into the fray. Her spear struck flesh and she sent Holy Power coursing through the weapon. She felt the healing energy of Zagra's totems wash over her and was grateful to the shaman.

All around her, the battle raged. It seemed they had the advantage, as they outnumbered the night elves. As she felled another hunter, Lenara became aware of what sounded like wardrums in the distance. She wondered what it could mean – night elves were not known to use wardrums. Then the trees shook and the ground trembled, and out of the forest emerged an Ancient. Its gnarled face was twisted in rage as it stomped into battle.

"Zagra, cover my back," Lenara called to her friend. "We need to bring that thing down before we're overwhelmed!"

As she rushed in the direction of the Ancient, dodging orcs and night elves locked into battle, Lenara saw that Thror was already landing blow after blow to the tree's base. She stunned the Ancient with a blast of energy and she and Thror renewed their assault. She sent blast after blast of Holy Power at the Ancient, while Thror hammered and hacked at it with his monstrous blade. His eyes burned with his blood fury.

Though she was taking a fair bit of damage from the battle, Lenara could tell that the Ancient was focusing its attacks on Thror. His armor was dented in places and his movement had slowed. Still, he battled on, though he seemed on the verge of collapse. Making a split-second decision, she cast a powerful healing spell on him, just as the Ancient knocked him about a hundred meters from the battle with a terrible stroke of its arm. The healing spell would restore him fully, Lenara knew, but she cursed its drain on her energy as the Ancient turned its attacks on her. Still, it too looked close to collapse. If she landed a couple of well-placed hits on it, she could bring it down.

Thror landed with a thud and was surprised to find that he felt fine, energetic even. He had felt himself approaching his limit when a golden light had enveloped him just before the Ancient had knocked him out of the battle. The paladin! She must have healed him at the last moment. He pushed himself to his feet and ran to where she and the Ancient were still fighting. As he approached, he could not help but admire the way she moved. She battled with all the grace of the sin'dorei, spinning away from the Ancient's powerful strikes and jabbing at it with her spear.

Pushing past her exhaustion and aches, Lenara stunned the Ancient for a second with a blast of light, which gave her just enough time for a last burst of power. The hammer of light she hurled at the Ancient was the last thing she saw before her world went black and she collapsed.


	3. Spirits

Thror roared victoriously as the Ancient came crashing down, its long limbs splayed out at odd angles, but his stomach lurched when he saw Lenara stumble to her knees and fall face-first in the dirt a second later. The remaining night elves were fleeing for the forest, but Thror's eyes were locked on the paladin's prone body. As he bent over her, he saw that she emitted a weak golden light. Whatever spell she had cast on herself to increase the power of her last attack seemed to be healing her, though not enough to bring her back to consciousness. Still, she lived.

Thror picked her up gingerly and headed back to his soldiers. The healers were already helping the wounded, while the soldiers who had emerged from the battle unscathed enough searched the bodies for survivors... and for their own dead, who would receive an honourable burial before the day was out. He set her down and beckoned a shaman over. He felt strangely reluctant to leave her side, but his soldiers needed him to lead them right now. Much had to be done before nightfall, as it seemed unlikely the company would be able to travel further before the morrow.

Before long, the tents had been set up in a nearby clearing and watchers were posted around the camp in case of a repeat attack. Fortunately, it seemed the forest had quieted, though the uneasy feeling of a malevolent presence persisted. Three orcs had fallen in the battle, and seven night elves. Four of the elves had gotten away, but one had been found lying unconscious on the battlefield. Thror did not like the thought of bringing a prisoner on an outpost building mission, but to kill the defenceless man would be dishonourable. He supposed they might also be able to get information from him on nearby Alliance camps.

The healers had laid Lenara in her tent after tending to her injuries. She struggled with consciousness for a time. Her mind refused the rest that her battered body needed. She could sense a presence nearby, and finally, she forced her throbbing head to turn in its direction and peeled open her eyes. She tried to speak, but managed only some weak, incoherent sounds. Nevertheless, the young orc jumped at the sound and turned to look at her. He forced one of her eyes open with his fingers and peered at her for a moment before standing up wordlessly and leaving the tent.

Lenara followed his movement with her eyes. She had wanted to ask where she was, but she found that her memories were quickly returning to her. Struggling to sit up, she looked around the tent and at herself. It seemed she was not missing any limbs, and though every muscle in her body ached, they were slowly beginning to respond to her commands once more. She noted that her armor had been stripped and she was wearing just her linen undershirt and woolen breeches. Just as she was picking at the bandages wound around her forearm, trying to judge the damage, the tent flap was pushed aside and Thror walked in.

"Lenara, the healer told me you'd woken," he said. Lenara was surprised to read relief in his face. He looked around the tent and, finding a stool that had been left next to her bedroll, sat down. His presence seemed to fill her small tent completely, and his closeness overwhelmed her. "I'm glad," he added.

"As am I," Lenara answered, hoarser than she had hoped to sound.

"Well," Thror continued, "it looks like I was wrong about you. You fought valiantly. I might be able to make use of you after all." He smiled at her, and though it looked a little menacing on his brutish face, Lenara's heart hammered in her chest. She suddenly felt very awkward and struggled not to look down at her hands.

"That means a lot to me, Captain," she finally managed weakly. He looked at her for another moment before standing up.

"You must be hungry. Do you think you can stand? I can always send someone to bring you food."

"No, I can stand," she answered quickly, anxious to not appear weak before him. As she threw her blanket off her lap, he offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, but the suddenness of the movement made her vision go black and she felt herself stumble forward. Before she could fall, she felt his strong hands catch her and pull her in. She found herself pressed against his chest for a moment, before he shifted away from her. Her cheeks burned and she was not sure if it was from embarrassment, or from the brief contact.

Thror moved to hold the tent flap open for her and she followed, breathing in the cool night air. "I suppose I should come up with a reward for you after that battle," he offered, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Her face seemed to light up at that.

"Perhaps you could grant me a small request instead of a reward," she said, looking up at him hopefully.

"Perhaps. What is your request?"

"Tell me about the battle in the Stonetalon Mountains." He looked taken aback by her request.

"It's common knowledge. The reports are public. You can find them in Ogrimmar," he answered, looking away from her. Thror seldom spoke of his battles to anyone, though he often got requests by virtue of his reputation.

"I know, I've examined them. I want to hear about it from you! It would be worth so much more to me than any other prize," she said, pleadingly. A sudden feeling of pride washed over him at the way she was looking up at him with those big green eyes of hers and Thror remembered the feeling of her breasts pressed against him. He fought an impulse to puff out his chest. He supposed it could not hurt to grant her the request, since she did not want the gold.

"Alright, get some food and join me by the fire," he said, and walked off towards a quiet spot by one of the campfires. Before long, Lenara had joined him, a small leather-bound notebook tucked under her arm. Thror was impressed by her ability to eat and take notes at the same time, though he noticed that her penmanship was nearly as bad as the Warchief's.

His storytelling was stiff and factual at first, but at length, he fell into a rhythm, telling her about the cavalry of hippogryphs, the dwarven wardrums, the charge he had led through the human vanguard. She was a good listener, rarely interrupting, riveted by his tale. When he finished, she asked a few pointed questions and noted his answers in her notebook.

"What's that for, anyways," Thror asked, pointing at the notebook.

"I collect stories from people and write them out. You know, lore, legends, battle accounts and such," she trailed off, looking down at her notebook.

"So you're a Lorewalker?" Thror was surprised. In these times of war, few still bothered to follow a path of higher learning.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly call myself that. I still have much to learn. But I do hope to be a Lorewalker one day." She looked at the fire for a moment. "So what happened after I fell?"

"Not much. The night elves retreated. We managed to take one prisoner, but there are no translators here." Lenara looked up at that.

"Perhaps I could speak to him? My Darnassian is pretty good." Thror considered her for a moment. She was indeed proving more useful than he had expected. They would have to go out of their way to reach an outpost with mail service in Ashenvale, and it would take days for the translator to arrive. He wanted to know what the night elf had to say now.

"Very well. Come with me." He led her to a tree near the outskirts of the camp where the prisoner was tied. He had been bandaged up after the battle and Thror had even seen fit to send him food and water, though it could not be said that the man was made comfortable. The night elf looked up at the sound of their footsteps approaching. His purple beard was matted with blood and his clothes were torn in places. A large bruise was swelling on his forehead.

Lenara squatted in front of him, while Thror remained standing. "_Well met, friend_," she said. She knew the expression was a little outdated, but she had not used her Darnassian conversationally in years. She spoke slowly and rolled the subtle accent of the words in her mouth, trying to find the right intonation. "_My name is Lenara. You are?_"

The night elf looked at her stoically with his milky white eyes. She knew what his people thought of their blood elf cousins, calling them fallen and lost, evil even. Finally, the man spoke: "_I am Eluthiel._"

"Ask him how they found us," called Thror gruffly from behind. Lenara translated. Surprisingly, the man was not at all reluctant to answer, launching into quick Darnassian.

"He says they were not looking for us. They were following their... ancestors?" She looked questioningly at the night elf and asked him to repeat himself.

"He says something in the forest has disturbed their ancestors and turned them vengeful. Their angry spirits haunt all who walk through here... They will slay us as they have been slaying his people." At this, the night elf leaned back against the tree and quieted. He regarded them with his strange pale eyes.

"Spirits," growled Thror. "Does he have any proof of this, or is he trying to bullshit us?"

"_How do you know your ancestors are haunting you_," Lenara asked the other elf.

"_We've seen them walking through the forest. They appear as though they were made of smoke and light, but their blades cut as surely as my own. We were following them in the hopes of discovering what has angered them so_," answered Eluthiel. "_Your kind has lost its connection to nature, but we are still wise to it. We commune with the spirits, but we cannot reason with these. We know little about them but that they appear to us as our loved ones who have passed._"

Thror asked many more questions through Lenara, but though Eluthiel tried to answer, he had no other information to offer about the spirits. He said that many of his people had left their settlements, but he would not tell them where they had gone or how many were left. Disquieted, they bid him goodnight and walked back to camp.

"Keep this information to yourself for now, Lenara," said the orc. "I need to know more before I can decide what to do about this. Get some rest."

That night, Lenara lay looking up at the roof of her tent, feeling for the knife under her pillow every once in a while and wondering how one kills a being made of smoke and light. Some hours before dawn, her tired body finally forced her into a fitful sleep.

They woke at dawn and rode off as soon as the camp was packed. The company was morose, despite the promise of a brighter day on the horizon. Zagra and Lenara rode side by side again, but they were quiet. Lenara's mind was spinning with thoughts of Eluthiel's story and the giddy feeling she got in her stomach every time she glimpsed Thror's strong back at the head of the company.

She turned to her friend to try and chase the thoughts away, but Zagra was staring intently at the night elf to their right. His hands were still tied, but he had been allowed to ride a worg so as not to slow down the company's march. Though his hair and beard were still caked with blood, he held his head up proudly, ignoring the orcs around him.

Turning back, Zagra caught Lenara's smirk. "What? I've never seen one before," she snapped at the unasked question and turned her eyes firmly on the road. Nevertheless, she was conveniently close by when Eluthiel's guard called for a healer to tend to a wound that had reopened at the elf's side during the long ride through the woods.

Lenara was thankful that they had encountered no spirits on the road that day, though she was surprised by the complete absence of night elves and wild hippogryphs. That night by the campfire, she sidled up to Thror again and brought it up.

"I noticed the same thing," he answered after checking that they would not be overheard. "It's as though something has driven them into hiding." His eyes held hers for a few seconds.

They switched to lighter topics. Though Thror usually craved solitude, he found that he enjoyed her presence. She was quick witted and quick to laugh, but strangely reserved about herself for someone so nosy. Instead, she preferred to talk about the places she had visited and the people she had met, and to ask him questions about himself. He felt the same sense of pride when he made her smile.

As the night wore on, he found his eyes straying to her breasts and her legs and he wondered idly what it would feel like to run his hands over her body and how her lips would taste if he were to lean over and kiss her. He wanted her, but he restrained himself. It was his duty to lead, not to seduce his soldiers, though an insistent voice at the back of his mind reminded him that she was not technically a soldier. Still, he went to bed alone that night and relieved himself of the need she had awoken in him, at least temporarily.

The next morning, they woke to a gruesome discovery. One of the guards posted around the camp was dead, cut to ribbons. A look of horror was etched on his lifeless face. Suspicion turned on the night elf, but as he had been under guard all night and was still tied up, no one could explain how he could have done it.

"_I told you they would come_," he said to Lenara. She and Thror exchanged uneasy looks and he ordered the company to ride forward.

They had camped close to the grounds for the new outpost, so they reached it within a few hours and construction work began immediately. Crews were organized to clear and level the ground, cut down trees and find the nearest source of water. Eluthiel watched them work with a sour look on his face – he did not like them felling ancient trees left and right to build their little outpost.

Lenara had asked Thror for an assignment and he had smirked down at her and, jingling a purse of coins, told her to find him 12 logs of wood and kill 10 rotting slimes to harvest their jelly for an adhesive. She knew that he was teasing her, but she turned her nose up at him anyway and stalked off into the forest to find the wood and jelly. Half an hour later, she had dumped the materials at his feet and, ignoring the smug look on his face, stalked off into the forest again. Truthfully, she wanted to be away from the camp for a few hours, so she set off to explore the surrounding area.

Thror had chuckled at her retreating back. He knew she would laugh about it that night by the campfire, so he turned his attention back to the building of the outpost. Already, sharpened stakes had been driven into the ground all around the camp. However, when she had not returned to camp a few hours later, he began to worry. Unbidden, Eluthiel's words and the murdered guard's face came into his thoughts. Had she run into any of the angry spirits? Though he was still skeptical of the night elf's claims, the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He did not wish to send anyone to look for her, because he was still uncertain of how much about the night elf's story he could share with his soldiers without more proof. He also felt a little possessive of her, though he was loath to admit it to himself. Calling over his second-in-command to take his place, he set off after her. She was easy to follow as she had not bothered to disguise her tracks. She seemed to have stopped frequently, especially near night elf ruins, where he could see that the earth had been disturbed, as if she had been digging. Intrigued, he continued after her.

At last, he saw the glimmer of a pool of water ahead of him through the trees. Advancing cautiously, Thror walked to the edge of the wood, where he could look out at the clearing without being seen. She was swimming in the water and he couldn't help but stare at her graceful strokes for a moment. Looking around, he spied her armor and weapons at the edge of the pond. She appeared to be wearing nothing but her thin linen undershirt.

Licking his lips, he emerged silently from the cover of the trees. He wanted to go to her, to pull her wet body against his own. He quickly discarded his armor and clothes, leaving only his underwear on. She was still swimming, but as he stepped onto the water, she stood up. The wet shirt clung to her skin and as she turned around to look at him, he saw that her hard nipples strained against the fabric. His cock throbbed, his need for her nearly overwhelming him.

"Thror, what are you doing here," she asked surprised. Her eyes roamed over his body, unable to look away. His powerful chest was covered by an intricate pattern of clan tattoos and battle scars. She longed to examine them closer.

"I suppose the same thing you're doing," he answered, stooping to wet his hands and run them through his hair. He smiled at her wolfishly as he continued to advance towards her. "You shouldn't let your guard down like that, Lenara."

As he reached her, she became aware of the transparency of her shirt and tried to cover her breasts, but he closed his strong hands around her wrists and pulled her against him. His erection pressed insistently against her stomach and she felt desire spread across her entire body until every nerve screamed to be touched.

"Do you like what you see," he asked, smirking down at her. She stuck her chin up, determined not to show him just how strongly he affected her.

"Perhaps. I can tell that you like what you see," she replied, squirming against his hard cock.

"Mmm, yes, well you are a sight prettier to look at than I am," he chuckled. Lowering his voice to just above a whisper, he said, "I'm not going to hurt you." He let go of her wrists and his left hand found one of her breasts, while the other held her to him by the small of her back. When he brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple, she arched her back, pressing her breast more insistently into his hand. He could see his hunger reflected in her face. The savage part of him wanted to tear her shirt off and take her hard on the shore, but he did not want to frighten her, so he forced himself to slow down and just enjoy the shape of her body against his own.

Something about the way Thror looked at her made Lenara panic. The pleasure of his hands and her desire threatened to overwhelm her. He was holding on too tight. It was too sudden. She felt vulnerable, unprepared. With the last of her resolve, she gently pushed herself off. He did not resist, but the way his face fell nearly made her jump back into his arms.

"I... we should head back to camp. It isn't safe," she finally managed, turning her eyes away from him. She quickly waded back out of the water, grabbed her clothes and armor and pushed into the forest without looking back. Thror watched her disappear before smashing his fist into the water.

He was such an idiot! He'd been too aggressive and had frightened her! Why had he even presumed she would be interested in him? She was a blood elf, for fuck's sake, what could she possibly want with an orc? He walked back to shore and dressed himself. He followed her trail back to camp, though he went slowly. He knew he would have to find her and apologize for embarrassing her, but he was not looking forward to it.

When he finally reached the tents, she was nowhere in sight. Fearing that she had left, he asked a passing soldier if he had seen her. The man replied that she had indeed come back to camp about half an hour earlier, but she had retired to her tent immediately. Thror sighed. He did not want to push her further and she clearly needed her space. His apology would have to wait for the morrow.


	4. Scouting

Though it had been dark for many hours, Lenara lay awake in her tent, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how hard she tried to will herself to sleep, her mind kept replaying her encounter with Thror in the woods. She turned to her side and squeezed her eyes shut, and his wolfish grin floated to the surface of her memories.

She remembered other things as well – the feel of his strong hands on her body, the hungry way he had looked at her, the insistent press of his cock against her stomach. She felt hot and frustrated and confused. Part of her had wanted to stay with him and to respond to his obvious desire. But another part, the one that yearned to be free, had warned her that she liked him too much, that she could not afford to get attached. On top of it all, she could not decide what his actions meant.

Lenara was no blushing virgin. She had been with other men, mostly blood elves and a couple of Darkspear trolls, but orc social norms were not as familiar to her. She had certainly never thought to read up on their courtship and mating habits. Finally, despairing of ever falling asleep, Lenara threw her covers off and crept to her bags.

She felt around blindly until she found her kerosene lamp and lit it. Then she reached into her bag and pulled a small bundle wrapped in cloth. She pulled the cloth open to reveal the pottery shards within it. She had been surveying the night elf ruins in the woods in the hopes of uncovering some clue or artifact that might help her understand the spirits that were plaguing Ashenvale. Lenara moved the shards this way and that, but it seemed she did not have enough to piece the object together. It resembled a tablet, but the markings on it were too faint to make out without the rest of the pieces.

Making up her mind, Lenara put the shards back in her bag, dressed quickly and crept out of her tent. She headed for the soldiers' tents, taking care not to wake anyone. Slipping into the further of the two tents, she tip-toed to Zagra's bed. The orc was snoring gently, but she started awake when Lenara nudged her shoulder. She signed to Zagra to dress and follow her out of the tent. Glaring at her pointedly, the orc followed her instructions.

"This better be good," Zagra finally said when the two were seated by the fire at the centre of camp. Lenara looked around to make sure no one was listening. A few night watchers were standing nervously by the edge of camp, too far away to make out what she was saying.

"Remember that guard we found dead yesterday?" Zagra nodded. "There are more dangerous things in the forest than night elves and rotting slimes."

"What do you mean," asked Zagra. Leaning in, Lenara told her Eluthiel's story. By the time she was finished, Zagra had forgotten all about scowling at the blood elf.

"I'd like to go scouting and see them for myself, if possible. I'd like it if you came with me," Lenara finished. "It will be dangerous, of course, so if you don't..."

"I'll do it," interrupted Zagra. "I'm coming with you. If nothing else, I still owe you for pulling me out of that river."

"Excellent! But first we must speak with the night elf." With that, the two set off to where Eluthiel was still tied up and under guard. The orc standing guard had seen Lenara interrogate Eluthiel with Thror on a few occasions, so he nudged the elf awake a bit more forcefully than was necessary and walked to the fire to warm up. Zagra stood a few steps behind Lenara, peering curiously at the night elf.

"_We have been in Ashenvale several days now, yet we have seen no sign of the disturbed spirits you told us about_," Lenara started.

"_You have a dead man, no?_" Eluthiel was as stoic as ever, though his voice sounded scratchy. Shuffling uncomfortably, Zagra dropped to her haunches besides Lenara and put a flask of water to the night elf's lips. He drank greedily from it and offered her a nod of gratitude.

"_Perhaps. Or perhaps he was mauled by one of the giant spiders we've seen around. Why have they not attacked us like they've plagued your people?_" Eluthiel cleared his throat and looked over Lenara's shoulder.

"_I think it's your fire. We don't generally use fire to light our way at night, but you keep yours burning until daybreak. They seem... weaker in sunlight. That is why we were hunting them when we came upon your party. Your guard must have wandered too far from the light._" Lenara quickly translated his words for Zagra.

"_Do you know where we could find them?_"

"_No, but we suspected. There is an old burial ground east of here where many of the deceased whose spirits we've seen were put to rest. We sent a scouting party, but they never returned,_" Eluthiel said. "_You will not return either, I fear, if you go there._"

Lenara looked up at the stars. It was still several hours until daybreak. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a map of Ashenvale.

"_Show me where the burial ground is. I want to see._" Sighing, Eluthiel instructed her until her hand was pointing at the spot on the map. "_We'll see you in a few hours,_" Lenara said to him and rose to her feet.

After settling on a path, Lenara and Zagra set off. They had told the guards they were going hunting. The company had grown sick of eating nothing but stale bread and jerky while the outpost was being built. Though the forest normally teemed with deer, birds and big prowling wolves, they had been scarce during the march. Lenara kept a faint ball of light glowing above their heads to illuminate the few steps in front of them, a simple trick she had learned as a child in Silvermoon, though it was mostly for her benefit; orcs had much keener night vision than blood elves.

At first they could hear the chirping of insects and the occasional rustle of critters scurrying away from them, but the forest grew quieter as they approached the spot Eluthiel had indicated. It was an oppressive sort of silence and it made their skins crawl with apprehension.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Lenara cleared her throat and whispered, "So how do orcs, you know, court each other?" Zagra raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why? Has someone been 'courting' you?" She asked, smirking at the blood elf.

"No, I was just curious," muttered Lenara, suddenly very interested in some shrubs to her right. Zagra's eyebrow remained firmly raised.

"Orcs are direct. They'll either tell you or make a move, and see how you react."

"Oh. Well, how do they expect the other person to react?" Lenara was still avoiding her friend's eye.

"With a yes or a no, of course. We don't like to wait around. How do blood elves do it?"

"With a lot of flirting and innuendo, I guess. We like to draw things out," said Lenara, chancing a glance at Zagra. The orc scoffed at her.

"Typical blood elves," she muttered.

Lenara paused and examined the map. They were getting close to the burial ground. She extinguished the light and looked up at the stars. They were growing faint. It would be morning soon. Zagra led Lenara the rest of the way to the edge of the forest. Crouching in the low brush, they looked out into the clearing. Lenara could see faint shapes moving against the darkness amid the towering ruins of toppled marble columns and pavilions. Next to her, Zagra stifled a gasp.

"What do you see," Lenara whispered.

"Night elves. Only, they don't look quite real. And there are demons there too. Felguards and succubi and something I've never seen before. It's huge!"

Lenara followed Zagra's gaze and tried to focus through the darkness. She realized that what she had taken for a ruin at first was actually moving. It was a monstrous mass, at least seven meters tall and extremely wide. Pulsating slightly, it seemed to have worked itself into the very ground, rooted there by massive tentacles. Dread filled her as its shape grew clearer in the slowly-encroaching morning light.

"We have to leave," said Zagra. Lenara nodded. They crept back slowly, wishing they could run from the horrid shadow in the clearing. A red light was rising in the east. They had made it a short way from the clearing when an otherworldly cry sounded behind them. They turned just in time to see a group of night elves descend upon them. Zagra had been right. There was something not quite material about them. Their eyes were black and filled with malice. The armor they wore was strange and not unlike the night elf artifacts Lenara had studied.

Reacting faster than her mind could process what was happening, Lenara cast a blinding burst of light, stunning the charging spirits. This gave Zagra just enough time to plant a totem in the ground, blasting them with fire. The spirits jumped back, some even turning to flee. Without a second thought, Zagra and Lenara did the same, running in the opposite direction. Through the corner of her eye, Lenara could see that one of the spirits was pursuing them. Calling on all her powers as a defender of the Light, she turned and hit it with a repelling spell, and the spirit fled from them. Without pausing to catch their breath, they kept running in the direction of the camp.

Back at camp, Thror was in a black mood. He had awoken from a night of fitful sleep only to discover that Lenara and one of his own soldiers had disappeared into the night to go "hunting." He knew the damned blood elf was not stupid enough to go hunting with angry spirits and who knew what else lurking out in the forest. Was she trying to get herself killed?

Thror swung an axe at a log of wood. It splintered and fell to pieces at the force of the blow he dealt it. He had decided to work out his anger by preparing some building materials, but the log would only serve as firewood now. He threw the broken pieces into a pile and continued his assault on a fresh log.

What had he found so attractive about the bloody elf, anyway? She was far too skinny for his tastes. Her small breasts were cute and perky, but nothing to write home about. She was an adequate fighter for an adventurer, but she needed to spend more time in the battlefield and less time with her nose stuck in a book. And those ears? They were ridiculous. Who needed ears that long?

Another log exploded at the impact of his axe. It was hopeless. He could not talk himself out of his attraction to her. He ran a hand through his coarse hair and threw the axe down in frustration. He was about to stalk back to his tent when Lenara and Zagra came stumbling back into camp. They were out of breath and disheveled, as if they had run a great distance. Lenara looked around disoriented until her eyes locked with his. She drew herself up and walked towards him purposefully, Zagra following behind more reluctantly.

"Captain, we have to talk," she said to him. He seethed. She had disrespected every order he had given, even dragging one of his own soldiers with her without consulting him and now she wanted to talk? Resisting the urge to growl, he turned on his heels and marched to his tent, followed by Lenara and Zagra. He turned to face the blood elf as the tent flap closed and she shrunk back at the fury in his eyes.

"Where exactly have you been," he hissed at Lenara. At least she had the good sense to look apologetic as she told him about everything that had happened, with Zagra filling in details about the demons in the clearing that Lenara had not been able to perceive through the darkness.

The orc looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. Turning to her first, he said, "Leave us, Zagra. I'll deal with you later." She walked out stoically, ever the soldier.

"If there is anyone you should punish, it should be me," said Lenara, sticking her chin up in that maddening way of hers. "It was my idea."

"It's really not your place to tell me what to do, blood elf, but rest assured, you will be punished" he replied menacingly. "Explain to me what exactly you were thinking. If you even think, that is."

"We had to know! Those... those things are out there, just a short distance away. We could have..."

Thror slammed his fist in the table behind him. "You could have been killed," he yelled. She took a step back, and he felt his anger shatter at the look in her eyes. She looked scared. She turned to leave. He could not stand the thought of her running from him again.

"Wait," he called, catching her wrist. "Lenara, you could have been killed," he repeated, softer this time. He found himself at a loss for words as he looked at her. There were twigs sticking out of her hair, doubtless from her flight through the woods, and he fought the urge to pull them out.

"I know," she said, finally looking up from the ground and into his eyes. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should have told you."

Thror breathed in a deep, calming breath and realized he was still holding on to her wrist. Letting go, he said, "It's partly my fault. What I did to you yesterday... I haven't exactly proven myself trustworthy as a leader. It doesn't excuse what you did, but I'm sorry too. For yesterday." He forced himself to look Lenara in the eye as he said it.

To his surprise, she smiled. "Don't be," she replied, and before he could react, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. He responded hungrily, pulling her body up against his own and kissing her deeply. He buried one of his hands into her hair, tilting her head up to better meet his mouth. His tongue probed her lips and she yielded, letting him in to explore her mouth.

Cupping her ass with his free hand, he lifted her up and sat her down on his table, bringing her closer to his height. He silently cursed the armor they were both wearing for preventing him from truly feeling her chest against his own. Finally drawing away for breath, he looked at Lenara. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, he had pulled the tie out of her hair and she was breathing as heavily as he.

"I thought you didn't want this."

"I do," she replied. "I was just not prepared for something so... direct yesterday. But as you said, I could have been killed, and the danger is still out there. Whatever happens, I need to take this chance." She kissed him again and this time, he forced himself to be gentler, to really feel the softness of her lips against his own.

Thror's mind raced with all the things he wanted to do with her, but they were in his tent in the middle of a busy camp and he was supposed to be disciplining her. "We can't do this here," he said, managing to break contact with her lips and looking at her regretfully.

"I know," Lenara answered breathily. "Just kiss me one more time." He did. He was lost. Any resolve he had had to discipline her was gone. He knew she would be trouble.


	5. To Splintertree

AN: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Been busy with moving to China and all that. I hope to update more frequently from now on. Enjoy!

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Lenara was a terrible cook.

Thror had wanted her to stay close to the camp fire, where it was safer, while he checked the surrounding area for potential threats. They had caught a couple of rabbits earlier in the day and he entrusted their preparation to her. It was a mistake. She had managed to both burn and undercook them at the same time. Discreetly, he tried to find some jerky in his pack.

The two of them had been traveling for the better part of the day and were preparing to make camp for the night. Thror had wanted to send word of the situation to Ogrimmar before settling on a course of action. The closest mailbox was in Splintertree Post. He had left the new outpost fully garrisoned in case of an attack, taking only Lenara with him, reasoning that he might need her language skills along the way. Of course, he had ulterior motives, as his guilty conscience reminded him once more.

Chewing on his jerky without really registering the flavour, Thror cursed the gathering darkness. They should have reached the post by now, but the road through Ashenvale was much changed even in the short time since they had marched to the new outpost location. Trees and large boulders had been uprooted in places and strewn across it, as if a great force had slithered across the land, pushing obstacles out of its way. Their riding mounts had also been agitated all day, snapping at their reigns and at times refusing to move altogether. Finally, they had reached the bridge to Splintertree, only to find it smashed. Night was already falling by then, making it hard to judge where the river was safe to cross, so they had made their camp for the night. Thror hoped the fire would be enough to keep whatever creatures roamed in the darkness at bay until morning.

"It's that bad, huh," Lenara's voice broke through his black thoughts. "The rabbit, I mean," she added, rising from her seat across the camp-fire. Thror watched in silence as she slowly walked around to where he was sitting – he could not imagine ever tiring of watching the graceful sway of her hips. "I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid, but I have plenty of other skills to make up for it."

Thror nearly choked on his jerky when she sat in his lap, grinding her ass against his rapidly growing erection. Where had that come from? He groaned as he buried his hand in her hair and kissed her roughly. The savage part of him wanted to throw her to the ground and bury himself in her right then and there, but the soldier in him knew they could not afford that kind of distraction if they wanted to survive the night. Besides, he was afraid of frightening her off again if he was too aggressive.

"It's too dangerous, Lenara. We have to be on guard," he said, pushing her away gently. She pouted at him, but got off his lap and sat down next to him.

"Fine," she huffed. "But you should know that I spent a lot of time working on that line."

"Duly noted," he replied, chuckling.

Lenara stared at the fire in silence. She could not explain the deep feeling of disappointment building in her chest. What had she expected? Thror was right, of course. Still, she had wanted... She was not sure what she wanted. _Thror_, the answer came unbidden into her thoughts. She wanted him, and badly. _Too much_, that fearful voice in her head told her. But she knew it was too late to talk herself out of wanting him. Her desire consumed her.

Finally, Thror broke the silence.

"You know, I don't even know where you're from, Lenara."

"I'm from Silvermoon," she said.

"Do you still live there?"

"No." Lenara was still looking down at the fire. Thror sensed a sudden tension about them.

"Well, where do you live?"

"On the road, mostly. I usually stay in Orgimmar if I'm not travelling." Thror watched as Lenara picked at a loose thread on her pants before he spoke again.

"Don't you miss Silvermoon? Don't you ever go back?"

"To be honest, I haven't been in Silvermoon since the Scourge."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing for me to go back to," Lenara said, finally looking up from her pants to scan Thror's face. "Everyone I cared about was killed in the Scourge attack. I stayed for a while to help rebuild, but... Well, I haven't been back since."

Thror's heart sank. He thought of his clan, whose every member was like a brother or sister to him. He could not imagine the pain of losing every one of them. That she had no family and no home – it gave him a most ridiculous desire to give them to her.

"I'm sorry," he managed awkwardly.

"It's okay," she said, smiling up at him. "Why don't you tell me about where you're from? Do you have any family?" She shifted closer to him and he put his arm around her, gingerly at first, but eventually relaxing into it. He told her all about his clan and she told him about the notable members of her family, like her great-uncle Phineus, who was said to have invented the best recipe for mana cakes in the Eastern Kingdom.

They talked late into the night, until he finally sent her to bed to get some sleep, taking the first watch. Thror would have watched over her all night if she had not woken up like clockwork when it was time for her watch and insisted that he get some sleep as well. Dawn found them unharmed and they set off early to find a good spot to cross the river.

As they neared Splintertree, Thror motioned for Lenara to stop and drew in a deep breath.

"The stench of death is upon this place," he said gravely.

"Are you sure," asked Lenara, peering uneasily through the trees that surrounded them.

"I've been on enough battlefields to know what dead bodies smell like. Draw your weapon," hissed Thror.

But before Lenara could react, another voice sounded behind them. "The orc is right. This place reeks of the dead. I would suggest you surrender your weapons now, unless you want to join them." Turning around, they found themselves facing six night elves. More were emerging from the forest all around them. All had their spears trained on Thror and Lenara. The one who had spoken before stepped forward. "Your weapons. Now."


	6. An agreement

Despite the gravity of her situation, Lenara found herself itching for her little notepad as she struggled to take in all the details of the night elf village through which they were led. Though it was made up of at least 20 buildings, it seemed abandoned. No one came out to meet the dozen night elves and their prisoners, and no curious faces peeked at them through the windows. An eerie and oppressive silence reigned over the settlement.

Lenara craned her neck back to look at Thror. He was limping sullenly. He had tried to fight their captors, of course, but there had been too many of them even for his might, and he had taken quite a few hits. An ugly looking bruise was already swelling on his face and some of his cuts still oozed blood. Lenara wished she could heal him, but the night elves would not let her when she tried. Finally, they were guided into the most central building, the largest in the village. Bright fires blazed all around it, even in the middle of the day. It was uncharacteristic of night elves, but Lenara could easily guess at why they wanted to keep the darkness at bay.

The inside of the building was built like an inn, with a bar to one side, but no innkeeper or guests were in sight. Lenara and Thror were made to sit next to each other, their hands still bound behind their backs.

"Are you alright," Lenara asked as soon as she was close enough to whisper to him.

"I'll live," muttered Thror darkly.

"Be silent," commanded the night elf who seemed to be the leader. His Orcish was heavily accented, but he seemed to have a good grasp of the language. "You will answer my questions now."

"Fuck off," growled Thror, spurring the night elf to strike him hard across the face with the back of his hand. Lenara bit back an anguished curse at Thror's pained groan. His head drooped to his chest, but the night elf pulled him back up by the hair, forcing the orc to look at him.

"Speak, foul creature, or I won't be so gentle next time," he spat.

"We were travelling to Splintertree to send a report about the spirits and demons roaming the forest," said Lenara before Thror could earn himself another smack. She felt his eyes boring into her accusingly, so she turned away, unable to face his look of betrayal just yet. "If I'm not mistaken, they are what drove your people to flee from Ashenvale, no?"

"How did you know about that, blood elf," asked the night elf, turning his attention to her. Lenara finally chanced a look at Thror. He glowered at her for a moment before inclining his head slightly.

"We have captured one of your people. He told us everything."

The night elf considered her for a while before speaking.

"Perhaps, but he didn't tell you that Splintertree was attacked two nights ago. When we arrived, everyone was dead. You won't find any assistance there."

Lenara's mind reeled with the implications of this new information. She wished she could convince herself that the night elf was lying, but the stench of death had been all around them. Even if they could somehow fight or talk their way out of their current predicament, it would be at least two days' travel to the next closest Horde outpost, assuming it was still manned, and the danger on the road seemed to be growing by the hour. She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of the night elf's voice.

"Where is the rest of your group? My people reported that you entered Ashenvale with a large garrison of orcs, yet only the two of you were sighted on the road to Splintertree."

"We left them to defend our camp in the northern part of the forest," replied Lenara. Thror stared silently ahead, refusing to acknowledge his captor. He was angry at Lenara for breaking down so easily and revealing such sensitive information to the enemy, but not as angry as he was with himself for allowing them to be captured in the first place. He needed to find a way out of the night elves' hands, and fast.

"Tell me, what exactly did you think you could do about the creatures plaguing this land," asked the night elf.

"I don't know, but we weren't about to run away like cowards, that's for sure," Thror said, smirking at his captor. It was clear his words had struck a nerve with their interrogator. He looked livid.

"You dare question my people's courage, Horde scum," he growled. "You know nothing! You have no idea how many of my people perished in the attacks we have suffered!"

"And what exactly do _you_ plan to do about them," asked Thror, unmoved. "That's the reason that your lot is still here, isn't it? But there don't seem to be that many of you left."

"Those of us willing to sacrifice our lives have chosen to stay behind to defend our lands and to give the others a chance at escape," replied their interrogator. "It's called honour, though I don't imagine you would be familiar with the concept."

"Oh, I know what honour is, night elf, but I also know what victory is. Your selflessness is... admirable, but I'm not big on suicide missions. I have 30 trained and experienced fighters a day's ride from here. Your people, though fewer, have proven themselves to be fierce fighters. Clearly, whatever is in the forest is a bigger threat to us all right now than we are to each other. I propose we set aside our difference and work together to destroy this menace once and for all." Lenara gaped at Thror as he finished speaking. The night elf was silent for a long moment.

"Is this some kind of a trick? You think I will release you in exchange for empty promises," he said finally.

"It is no trick. You have my word, for what it's worth. If Splintertree has indeed been decimated by these creatures, the Horde must do anything within its power to defeat them. We won't be able to get any more reinforcements in time, and it doesn't appear as if anyone is coming to rescue you. Working together is our only option. You certainly don't have to free us. I wouldn't free you if the tables were turned. Keep us here as hostages. My soldiers won't harm you if you assure them that we are safe."

"And how will they know to come and cooperate with us," asked the night elf. He seemed sceptical, but Thror could tell that he was seriously considering his proposal.

"I'll write you a letter. Deliver it to my second-in-command. He'll do the rest," answered Thror. The night elf was silent once more. He appeared to be weighing his options before speaking.

"I'll discuss your proposal with my people," he said before walking out. Another night elf replaced him almost immediately, though this one simply watched them silently from her position by the doorway.

Lenara chanced a glance at Thror, but he was not looking back at her. She hated herself for letting him down, but she could not bear to watch him in pain and beaten while he was defenceless. She was falling hard for him, she realized. It still scared her, but it also felt so right. He was everything she admired in a person – brave, loyal, ambitious, intelligent, a true leader, and though he was a fierce warrior, he also had a gentleness to him that made her feel safer than she had felt with anyone before. The fact that she was incredibly attracted to him did not hurt either. His piercing red eyes, strong jaw line and wolfish smiles made her feel weak in the knees. She hoped he would forgive her.

The night elf leader returned after about 20 minutes. He was carrying parchment, ink and a quill. Two more night elves followed in after him, one carrying bread, dwarven cheese and a glass pitcher of water on a tray, the other a basin of clean water and a washcloth. He instructed the guard to untie Lenara and Thror's hands and ushered them into the closest room.

"Though I am loath to cooperate with the Horde, we have decided to accept your proposal, orc," said the night elf when everything had been set down. He motioned to the writing implements, which had been set on a wooden desk by the window. "I expect, of course, for your people to surrender their prisoner to us immediately."

"Very well," said Thror, as he picked up the quill and dipped it in the bottle of ink. "I am Thror Blackscar, by the way. My companion is Lenara Nightstrider, an adventurer and champion of the Horde."

"I know who you are, Captain Blackscar" replied the night elf. "Your reputation precedes you even among the Alliance. My name is Mallor." He quickly scanned the letter Thror handed him, before continuing. "You two will remain here as our hostages. I will deliver this letter myself as none of my people speak Orcish. They've been instructed to take care of you, though they won't be able to communicate with you."

"I can speak Darnassian passably well," said Lenara.

"Excellent. You may tend to your injuries and rest in this room tonight, but you may not leave. Farewell." With that, Mallor walked out, leaving Thror and Lenara alone. As soon as the door closed, Lenara rushed to Thror's side.

"Let me heal you," she said. He sat on one of the two large beds wordlessly as he felt her holy magic envelop him and course through his body, healing his injuries and easing his aches. After a couple of spells, Lenara paused for a drink of water, and then continued. Though she was done, she could not help but run her hand over his right cheek. It was rough with stubble, but the bruise was already receding. "Are you mad at me," she finally asked, unable to bear his silence any longer.

"You broke too easily, Lenara," Thror said, finally meeting her eyes. "You told them very sensitive information. If he hadn't accepted my proposal, the whole garrison would have been endangered."

"I know," said Lenara, sighing. "I just couldn't bear to see them hurting you like that."

"This is war, Lenara. These things happen."

"So, would you have acted differently if it had been me getting beaten," asked Lenara, taking his hand. Thror had not considered that. Just the thought of Lenara being harmed made his heart rate spike. If he had to be honest with himself, he knew that he would not have been able to watch her in pain and do nothing. Tipping her chin up with his free hand, he kissed her gently to erase the image from his mind.

"No, I don't think I would have acted differently," he said when he finally pulled away from her. He felt touched that she cared so much for his wellbeing. He knew that it was dangerous to feel this way as a soldier, but he pushed those thoughts away for the moment so he could enjoy the warm glow spreading through him.

"You should eat something," said Lenara, blushing at the way he was looking at her. She jumped up and brought the tray over and they ate in silence for a while. She had not realized how hungry she had been until then.

Thror wished he could break the silence, but try as he might, his mind felt blank. He had never been much good at talking to girls. Luckily for him, Lenara broke the silence first.

"You're caked in blood. Let's get you cleaned up," she said as she carried the basin of water over to where he was sitting. She dipped the washcloth in the water and wrung it out before using it to clean the grime and gore from his face. The washcloth felt cool on his heated skin as he sat back and watched her pretty face while she worked.

The night elves had confiscated their armor and left them only their shirts, britches and boots, so when she was done with his face, she slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head to clean his chest. Lenara could not help smoothing her small hands over his powerful chest as she cleaned him. His dusky green skin was covered in clan tattoos and old battle scars, as well as a patch of coarse hair across his pectorals that tapered down his stomach into a dark treasure trail. She longed to see the end of it. Her gentle little caresses were driving Thror wild. With a low rumble in his throat, he pulled her down into his lap. His hard cock pressed against Lenara's ass as he kissed her roughly.

"Is that a mana worm in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me," she teased as he kissed a trail down her neck.

"You're terrible at flirting," he replied as he reached up her shirt to cup one of her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and she bit back a moan as he teased one with the pad of his calloused thumb. He stopped kissing her just long enough to pull her shirt off and reveal her small and perky breasts. Pulling her to him with one hand, he bent down and sucked one of her hard nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. Lenara dug her hands in his hair as she threw her head back and moaned out loud.

Finally releasing her nipple from the exquisite torture of his mouth, he pulled her face down so she was looking him in the eye. "Lenara, I would never force myself on you. Just tell me that you want this. I need to hear it," he said, aching to bury his cock in her. Her flushed cheeks, her shallow breathing and the wild look in her eyes all betrayed her arousal, but be had to be sure.

"I want this. I want you, Thror. I've never wanted anything so much in my life," she answered breathlessly, before pulling him back in for a passionate kiss. Thror slid his hands under her ass, picked her up and lay her down on the bed on her back. Bracing himself above her on his left forearm, he undid her pants and slid his hand in. He groaned appreciatively when he found that her panties were already wet. Pulling them aside, he slipped a finger between her folds and rubbed her clit. She moaned into his mouth and raised her hips off the bed, dancing into his hand. His cock was almost painfully hard, but he was not done with her yet. He slid his middle finger into her tight passage and fucked it in and out of her, while his thumb continued to rub her clit in concentric circles.

Finally, his need to taste her overwhelmed him and he pulled his finger out of her pussy. Lenara tried to voice a protest, but he silenced her with another kiss before rising up on his haunches and pulling her boots and pants off. Soon, her underthings joined the rest of her clothes on the ground and she was naked before him. He paused for a moment to take her in before bending over her once more and kissing slowly up her thighs. Her mewls of pleasure intensified the closer he got to her pussy. The scent of her arousal clung to her skin as he finished his torturous journey up her legs and spread her lips open to taste her. He slipped a finger in her once more as his tongue danced over her sensitive clit.

Lenara thought she would lose her mind as the pleasure of Thror's tongue and finger intensified. Her hips rose rhythmically off the bed and she clutched at his shoulders and his hair in a vain attempt to steady herself. Finally, unable to bear it, she gasped out, "I want to do that to you, Thror." He raised his head up to look at her and smirked as he pushed himself up and shifted into a half-sitting, half-lying position at the head of the bed. He helped her pull the rest of his clothes off before settling back down again.

Lenara stifled a gasp as she ran a hand tentatively up his cock. She had known he was large, but his size still intimidated her. Bending down, she teased the head of his cock with the tip of her tongue before taking it in her mouth and sucking gently, trying to find the best amount of pressure to apply based on Thror's reaction. Her left hand found his heavy balls and she massaged them lightly while continuing to suck and lick his cock. She had managed to get her mouth around more than half of it, though it was a stretch, when Thror pulled her off roughly and kissed her, pushing his tongue in her mouth. He did not want to come undone in her mouth and she had been pushing him too far in that direction.

"I need to be inside of you," Thror said, his voice low with his desire. She nodded and straddled him. She found that his tongue and fingers had prepared her well as she slowly lowered herself down on his cock. He was kissing her neck and breasts and rubbing her clit to distract her from any discomfort she might be experiencing as she took more and more of him in. When she had finally taken his full length in, she started rocking back and forth on his cock in a slow rhythm that rose faster and harder as she got accustomed to his size and relaxed around him. Soon, she was bouncing up and down on his cock, her breathing becoming more and more frantic. Thror pumped his hips up, meeting her every thrust.

Picking her up again, he shifted her beneath him on the bed and continued thrusting in her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his back, desperate to be close to him. Her moans were growing louder, so he silenced her with another deep kiss. The feeling of fullness he was giving her was so exquisite, Lenara could no longer form coherent thoughts. She just knew she wanted more of him. She fisted her hands in the sheets and pulled him closer with her legs. A few more hard thrusts of Thror's cock and she came undone, oblivious to everything except for the pleasure crashing over her.

Thror felt her tighten around him, coaxing him to his own release. He groaned as his thrusts came faster and grew more frantic. His hips jerked forward a few more times as he came inside her, his cock pulsating with each spurt of his come. Exhausted, he collapsed on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms. They lay in silence, catching their breaths, for a long moment before Thror raised himself on his elbow to look down at her. She was lying on her side, facing him, and he ran a hand down her neck, along her collarbone to her chest.

Her body also bore the scars of her previous battles. A long silvery gash was still faintly visible just under her breast bone, running down almost to her left hip. He traced it with his hand. As she shifted into a more comfortable position, he noticed the band of tattooed runes that ran from the back of her right shoulder to the small of her back. He remembered that blood elves would often paint or tattoo wards against demons on their bodies, though he could not recall where he had read it. It dawned on him just how unlikely their pairing was. What could a blood elf and an orc possibly have in common? Yet here they were, enjoying the afterglow of their mating, and he could not think of a single place he would rather be, even though he was currently being held hostage by night elves in the middle of a haunted forest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Lenara," he said, unable to hold back any longer.

"I know," she replied, taking one of his hands in hers and kissing it. "Does it scare you?"

"No. It would scare me if I felt unsure that it was the right thing, but I've never felt so sure of anything in my life," he answered, pulling her closer to him. "Are you scared?"

"Yes. I haven't let anyone get close to me in a very long time. But I feel safe with you," Lenara replied, blushing at her own honesty.

Thror wondered idly what his clan would say if he were to bring Lenara home. Interracial relationships were certainly becoming more common since the Horde had been created, but there was still an expectation that one settled down with someone of their own race. He supposed it was too early to be thinking about it and pushed the thoughts out of his head. They talked late into the night, before finally drifting off to sleep. Though danger was all around them, everything felt right with their world that night.


End file.
